


so stay with me, hold my hand

by himbodad



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mutual Pining, cursed!fitzroy, truth curse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-27
Updated: 2020-05-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:21:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24410470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/himbodad/pseuds/himbodad
Summary: Sir Fitzroy Maplecourt has found himself under a curse that requires him to speak only the truth. Lying could mean the difference between life and death, and he certainly doesn't want to die. Secrets must be revealed, whether he likes it or not.
Relationships: Argo Keene/Sir Fitzroy Maplecourt
Comments: 12
Kudos: 129





	so stay with me, hold my hand

**Author's Note:**

> (Slight) TW: Fitzroy discusses a bad relationship with his father and is in sever pain/cannot breathe for a majority of the work
> 
> i had to get this one out before the new ep. let's hope my angst is sufficiently heart wrenching! title is from Mitski's "I Will", because apparently I can only name fics after songs that come on shuffle as I write them.

Fitzroy doubles over, clenching his arms around his stomach. His vision goes white and then begins to fade away. He feels like he’s having a heart attack. He very well may be. All of his surroundings disappear into a blur, and he finds that he no longer has the same control over his body that he did moments ago.

He can vaguely hear Althea Song of the Heroic Oversight Guild, begging him to lie down. Fitzroy collapses. His back collides with a sizable rock, and he doesn’t have it within him to remedy that. He chokes on nothing, flailing his limbs every which way and putting all of his focus into breathing. 

“Fitzroy… I think you’re cursed!” She says, pressing a glowing hand up against his chest. “I don’t know why else you would be harmed in such a way.”

“Oh, that’s great. Good job everyone! We’re here to- damnit- to prevent a centaur war, and instead I end up being cursed.” He coughs violently. With each word, his lungs close up more and more. 

The Firbolg’s eyes are covered by his hair, but Fitzroy can still tell that they are shadowed by a look of fear. Good. He would expect nothing less from one of his devoted friends. 

How strange is it, that he has friends now? If only all of those, those bullies from his hometown could see him now. They’d really appreciate this whole curse deal. Were curses from not reposting Fantasy Facebook messages real? Because if so, ignoring the messages from his former peers is surely what got him into this predicament. 

“Master Firbolg, you know the spirit of nature better than anyone. Can you go to investigate the tree, see if that could have anything to do with his curse? I’m going to see what kind of medical assistance the centaurs have available, and Argo-” Althea is clearly scared, which only serves to instill more fear in Fitzroy than he would have believed possible. Song is an incredibly competent woman with more experience and knowledge than anyone else he knows. If even she is so deeply concerned over his condition, then he must be in worse shape than he’d thought. 

His second thought is that Argo can’t leave him. He can’t do this on his own, lie helpless and pain stricken. For all he knows, his last moments may very well be spent that way. It isn’t like he exactly knows how curses work. Maybe all curses are fatal! Or maybe just this one? That certainly isn’t a theory that Fitzroy wants to think about. Regardless, he needs Argo in this moment, whether he wants to admit it or not.

“Uh, I think I’ll stay with Fitz.” Argo says. Althea tries to argue back, but he shoots her a look that makes it clear he will not be leaving his friend’s side.

She raises her hands in defeat. “Try to get him to regulate his breathing, if you don’t mind. I’ll be back as soon as possible. And please, make sure he doesn’t… never mind. I think we should try and keep a positive mindset here.”

“Wow, Miss Song, I feel better already!” Fitzroy snarks. His throat closes up, but he pushes through to whisper, “What a life saver you’re proving to be.”

“Fitz, do you really think this is the time for that? Not to worry you, buddy, but you aren’t looking so good.” Argo kneels down beside Fitzroy, laying a hand on one of his shaking arms. “C’mon, deep breaths.”

“These are… these are as deep of breaths as I can manage.” Fitzroy heaves. By the end of his sentence, the invisible blockage at the back of his throat grows a little smaller, and the edges of his vision slowly return. He can see Argo’s face again. The genasi has never looked more handsome. Maybe that’s just because there was a minute or so where Fitzroy couldn’t see him. He had not truly understood the depth to which he is infatuated with Argo until he was unable to look into his eyes and see that current of kindness and understanding that always ripples through them. 

In the distance, Fitzroy notices a group of centaurs who have caught wind of his illness and are attempting to get closer to him. Argo sees his grimace and connects the dots. He has a habit of knowing what Fitzroy needs, even when he doesn’t have the words to express himself. 

“Listen, unless you guys know how to heal the damn curse, I’d recommend you stay away! I’ve got a sword, and I’m not afraid to use it!” Argo hollers. The pack of centaurs turns away, murmuring amongst themselves. One of them comments on the tension between the two students. In response, someone makes a snarky remark about deathbed confessions that would not have gone over well if they said it any closer to Argo and Fitzroy.

“A- Argo! You can’t… oh lord.” He laughs. “You really- you really shouldn’t be joking with them like that.” 

“Who said it was a joke? Fitzy, I’d do anything for you. You understand that, right?” The pain that still resides in the bones of Fitzroy Maplecourt is no longer felt, replaced instead by a different kind of burning behind his heart. A deep yearning, stronger than ever before. What had he done in a past life to deserve this? It must have been something truly magnificent. Very rarely does the universe bless you with someone as good as Argonaut Keene. “Even if that means slashing some horse people through with Florence.”

“Moment ruined, Argo. And there’s no need for that. I can take care of myself.” He sniffs. The false lump that blocks his breathing grows once again. “Let me sit up, for heaven’s sake, I’ll be fine in a moment.” 

He won’t be, and he knows it. His throat is closing. The chances are that unless Althea and the Firbolg are able to find a cure for his condition soon, he’ll die here. Laying helpless on the forest floor. Besides the love of his life who will never know the depth of his feelings. Argo grabs his hand. Fitzroy reels back in shock, but does not move his hand away. Their fingers interlock. Argo gives a gentle squeeze, a reminder of his support. He tucks his left arm below Fitz’s head, cradling him as his breathing becomes more and more labored.

He too understands the severity of Fitzroy’s current situation. Argo can tell that, no matter what bullshit his friend is mindlessly spewing, he’s in pain. The barbarian can’t breathe. And Argo is trying, gods above is he trying, but nothing seems to work. Not the pressure of their interwoven hands against his ribcage, not the slight elevation that their new position gives. He pulls Fitzroy closer. The patch of Argo’s shirt that Fitzroy is now leaning up against goes wet with tears. Matching ones fall onto Fitzroy’s head. 

“I’m not leaving you. Okay, Fitz? You’ll be just fine, I swear. Oh god help me, you’ll be fine. Hey, when we get back to campus, I’ll buy you one of those, uh, those fucking crepe machines you keep asking about.” Fitzroy’s tear filled eyes lock with Argo’s. His breathing is worse than ever before. Each breath is heavier than the last, and they are less and less frequent. His pulse is racing. And there’s nothing that Argo can do about it, as much as he may hate this feeling, of knowing that someone you love is in pain and it’s impossible to try and alleviate it. 

Fitzroy’s eyes slide shut, a weak smile decorating his face. Argo has to press a finger to his neck to make sure he’s still even alive. He is. Barely. Argo shakes him gently.

“This can’t be it, Fitzroy! You- this can’t- you’re stronger than this, I know it. Please, please. Just stay with me, or I- well, I don’t know what I’ll do. D’you hear me? I don’t think I could go on without you next to me, Fitzroy Maplecourt, so you’d better get your act together before, uh, before…” His mind is racing. Is there anything that he could possibly do? Some remedy that will at least bring his love a moment of peace as he falls away into whatever the universe has next for him? He fears that no such solution exists. 

A shadow falls over the pair. The Firbolg and Althea Song have returned, just as Fitzroy’s turn for the worse has gone even more sour. In her hands is a small glass vial of smelling salts, which she waves under Fitzroy’s nose as Argo turns him towards their new visitors. 

“Sir Fitzroy? Listen, we may have figured out how to help you.”

“We cannot help you unless you wake up.” The Firbolg adds. Fitzroy musters up a timid cough and glares at him, removing his hand from Argo’s in order to lift up his middle finger. (He immediately returns it to its rightful spot. Why not take advantage of the touch he is so starved of?) “What is the issue with this statement? It is very true.”

“I understand that, you imbecile-” His body is wracked with a vicious cough. Argo holds him through it, running a hand through his friend’s hair. Gently, with enough care to bring him comfort. 

“There was no reason to be mean. I am… just trying to help.”

“Okay, now that everyone is conscious, let’s get down to business.” Althea interrupts. “Based on what Master Firbolg and I have gathered, it’s likely that the curse you are under is closely linked to emotion.”

“Uh, not to deny the help, but it doesn’t seem like you did that much research. You two weren’t gone for long.” Argo comments. “Are we sure that whatever you’ve gathered will be enough to help him?”

“I understand that you’re stressed right now, Argo, and there’s good reason to be. But we don’t exactly have the time for in depth research. One of the centaurs informed me of Fitzroy’s dramatic turn for the worse, and I pieced together from that information that we had to act faster than anticipated.”

Argo shuts his mouth. Fitzroy chuckles, which may take away a very much needed breath from his system, but also brings a real smile to his face. The past however-many-minutes have been a roller coaster. It’s one that he’d like to get off of, as he was never one for heights to begin with. 

“As I was saying, the curse appears to be connected to emotions. But that’s only applicable when a curse of this nature is being discussed in the vaguest of terms. The root of your… issue, Fitzroy, is more specific than that. It correlates to the onslaught of emotions that would be brought on by-”

“The truth will set you free.” Firby interjects. “That is what the trees told me.”

“Exactly! Fitzroy, it would appear that you’ve been cursed to tell the truth or suffer immense pain. Would you say that’s accurate?”

It made more sense than some of the other possibilities that he had been tossing around. Namely, the idea that he was born cursed and it had only now revealed himself. He had figured that was too much like a fairy tale to be true. Although, if true love’s kiss was needed, he did have Argo right beside him, and he sure as hell wouldn’t be opposed to that idea. 

Every time that he had spoken a lie, even if it was doused in a heavy covering of sarcasm, his throat would close up more. The pain that was so strong it resonated into his core would grow stronger. 

“That- yes. That would make sense to me.” Fitzroy mumbles. Instantly, the back of his throat opens up. Only a little bit, but it’s enough to where he can suck in a real breath, certainly more than before. 

“This is great news!” Althea exclaims. “Now all we have to do is figure out what hidden truth it is that your body feels needs to come out. After that, you should be all better. I mean, we’re still taking you to an infirmary after this, don’t get me wrong. There are certain procedures that must be taken for any victims of a curse. Think of it this way- if you get it all out of your system, you’ll at least survive the ride over there!”

Fitzroy wants to respond like this: ‘Wow, Althea, thank you so much for that lovely anecdote! That is so incredibly reassuring, I feel better already.’ In a tone dripping with irony. Tragically, he cannot. It would appear that if he did so, his air duct would close up, and he would much prefer that it didn’t. 

Now what lies has he told that would cause him to have so guilty a conscience that a truth curse is having such an effect on him? The whole dog Hieronymus thing, certainly, but there’s no way in hell that he’s talking about that. Especially since they just figured out that they don’t actually have to worry about Althea knowing. He’s not going to give that tidbit up unless he has no other choice. Leon being a bird? That’s certainly something that a person investigating the happenings of the school would want to know, a student disappearing and being turned into a winged creature. Or would that give away too much about Higglemas’s plans?

“I- does anyone have advice on, I dunno, where I should try and start? To be completely honest- and oh, isn’t that rich- I’ve more than enough lies to go around.” Fitzroy explains. His head is still on Argo’s lap, and he can feel his friend’s body shake with laughter at his comment. “I’m being serious, Argo. And you know that, because I’d have one more foot in the grave if I didn’t.” 

“I DO NOT KNOW OF ANY SECRETS YOU ARE LYING ABOUT, FITZROY. WE ARE ALWAYS COMPLETELY… TRANSPARENT.” Why did the Firbolg have to open his abnormally large mouth? He must understand that he is the world’s worst liar.

“Indeed! The three of us buddies, oh boy, uh… lots of communication happening. Just, so many discussions of feelings.” Argo jumps in. “But maybe, Fitz, you could talk about your past. I mean, only if you want to! I just, well, I figure that’s as good a starting point as any.”

“It doesn’t matter if I want to, Argo, my life depends on it.” Fitzroy hisses. “My- my apologies. I will endeavor to be truthful, as much as it may pain me to do so.”

“You didn’t tell us that it hurts to tell the truth too! Fitzroy, this is-”

“Althea, I was not being literal, but thank you for the sentiment. Well then. Where to start, eh? Let’s dive deep into my horrible past.” He clears his throat. Argo’s face is immediately covered in misplaced concern, as though he’s worried that Fitzroy’s cough is returning. “I can’t remember the last time that I saw my father. And even when I did, let’s be real here, I did not want to see him. He’s one of the worst people I’ve ever met, no doubt.”

The truthful remedy is working. In place of the previous pain is an angry blush spreading across his face. He had not planned on telling his friends this… well, ever, but certainly not today! 

“I think the worst moment of my life was when I came out to him.” Fitzroy reveals. “For a man who claims to be accepting of all people, he certainly didn’t show it. Oh please, keep the handkerchiefs away, it’ll only be getting worse. The man told me I was going straight to hell, and that I needed to stop polluting his house with my- I suppose it was my existence that was polluting the home, in his eyes. The only reason I wasn’t kicked out was because of my dear mother, who’d rather leave her husband than her son.”

“I thought your father was some sort of salesman?” Althea prods. “None of your records showed anything that would have led me to believe your home life was so strained.”

“First of all, how in the living hell do you have access to my records? Secondly, the salesman thing was, as with almost everything else about my life, a lie!”

“It’s sort of my job, Fitzroy, I’m allowed to examine anything that could potentially be relevant to the safety of you students-”

“Once again, rhetorical question, but thank you for that frankly frightening response. What else do I need to spill? Huh, does anyone know how much longer I have to divulge personal information for?”

The Firbolg raises a large hand. “The spirits of the woods… they have implied that the curse is lifted once your biggest truth is revealed. That should end your pain.”

“Great! Now I just have to think back on every single secret I’ve held in my time on this godforsaken planet and figure out what it is I desperately need to reveal. I will, um, get back to you three on that in a moment.” 

His chest has cleared enough to where he can sit up on his own, and he begrudgingly untangles himself from Argo. Fitzroy’s greatest ‘truth’ that he’s hiding is probably the secret of the Wiggenstaff’s headmasters, but as he had already decided, there was no way that he would be revealing that. He’d already brought up the surface level family trauma that he’s endured. To be completely honest, as the situation obviously required, he wanted to give away whatever his biggest truth is as soon as possible, and ensure that he didn’t have to ramble on and on about all of the emotional turmoil that he has gone through. 

Perhaps his sexuality! That’s something that he keeps closely guarded. Except he had already mentioned coming out as part of the story of his father. Besides that, Fitzroy is fairly confident in his identity. He isn’t incredibly open about it, but he’s not purposefully trying to hide it either. Schrodinger’s homosexuality. Is that how the experiment works?

He stole a rather fancy pen from one of the shops in Last Hope, although that probably doesn’t count since the Firbolg saw him do it and then made him give it back. Once, he punched a cop in the face while in a rage. There was no reason for it, he just has a hatred for the police force. Once again, that isn’t some hidden truth that he’s keeping from his friends. He’d gleefully recounted the tale to Argo during their first week at the school. (Originally he had done so to try and gain favor with the boy who he had been so cruel to upon their first meeting, but after Fitzroy saw that handsome gleam in his friend’s eyes at the thought of Sir Fancypants assaulting an armed officer, it became so much more than that). 

There’s one particular lie that Fitzroy has been keeping up since his time at Wiggenstaff’s was practically brand new. It’s sticking in the back of his mind, begging him to set it free. The secret pales in comparison to the fact that his real headmaster is a dog, but it’s a large enough deal to him that this is likely the only thing that will work. Fitzroy can breathe. He could just ignore this entirely and hope that he doesn’t tell anymore lies before he can get dragged into an infirmary somewhere. But the nearest hospital is ages away. He doesn’t actually understand how the curse works. The secrets of his youth coupled with abstaining from lying for a few minutes have been enough to allow him to breathe. Maybe this will be the straw that breaks the curse’s back. 

Fitzroy lets out as deep of a sigh as he can manage. He stares at the ground in front of him, not wanting to look Althea or the Firbolg (and certainly not Argo) in the eyes as he speaks. 

“I- I am in love with Argo Keene! Is that enough for this, this hellish curse to leave its residence in my body? I can’t go a day without thinking of his eyes, or his smile, or that way that he twirls those stupid knives around. It’s, I have no idea why, but that sight is so incredibly attractive to me! And I had to watch as he practiced that move for two whole months! And every day, he’s the first thing I think of when I wake up, and the last thing I think of when I go to sleep. I’ve dreamed of him, him holding me close and telling me that everything is going to be okay. I suppose that dream came true today, albeit under far from ideal circumstances. And-”

“That- that’s probably enough, Fitzroy. Let’s have you, um... why don’t you take a second to calm down and see what condition you're in now.” Before you tell us how you think of Argo in the shower or something, she mentally adds. To Althea Song, it was obvious the adoration that Argo and Fitzroy share for each other. It was obvious from the moment that she talked to them. Especially Argo. He clearly felt like Fitzroy didn’t care for him in the same way, which was not the case in the slightest. She hadn’t felt the need to interfere. This would be a much more interesting story to tell the grandkids anyways.

Fitzroy refuses to lift his head. His ears feel like they’ve been stuffed full of cotton, but all of the curse's effects appear to have gone away. At least one good thing will be coming out of this. Through the fuzziness that surrounds his head, he can vaguely hear the Firbolg ask Althea something before the two of them take a step back, leaving Argo and him alone. He’s recovered from the curse, but not enough to get up and run away like he wants to. His limited sanity is vanishing. Fitzroy begins hyperventilating, tugging his knees up to his chest and rocking back and forth like a pathetic infant. There’s no way that someone as amazing as Argo would ever want someone like him. Broken. A failure in the highest degree. 

“Fitz? Fitzroy, please, calm down for me. Uh, can you look at me? Please?” Argo’s voice cracks on that last syllable. “Please, Fitzroy, I need to make sure that the curse isn’t, I don’t know, returning somehow.”

“I assure you, I am- I am perfectly fine. I’ll be better if you leave me be.” He sniffles. His hands are gripping his legs with such force that they may bruise. 

“I’m not so sure of that. Come to think of it, don’t think you are either.” Argo steps towards the other man, slowly, like he’s approaching a frightened creature. He sits down, pressing his chest up against Fitzroy’s side and wrapping his arms around him. “I, I know you may want to overthink this, but I wouldn’t. You don’t have to make things more difficult than they already are.”

“Things are difficult because I was motherfucking cursed, Argo! And now I’m not, and you don’t have to keep watch over me anymore. Go figure out whatever we need to do to solve this mission and I’ll get Althea to take me to the hospital. I’m not a complete idiot.”

“Really? Cause I’ll tell ya, Fitz, you sure seem like one right now. Hey.” He lifts up Fitzroy’s face gently, until the two of them are eye to eye. The barbarian refuses to match his gaze, but he doesn’t do anything to move away again either. “You didn’t give me any time to respond ‘fore you went into panic mode.”

“Well yes, I figured I may as well try and avoid the crippling embarrassment that comes from being forced to reveal your deepest, darkest secrets to the man you’re in love with but, no, go ahead. Try and tell me what I should have done instead.” 

“You should’ve figured out that I love you too, Fitzroy. I mean, I’d say I’ve made it fairly obvious.”

Fitzroy finally looks Argo in the eyes, his lover’s hands still cradling his face. The two of them exchange a glance that seems to communicate all that they feel for one another. Today has been full of enough words to last a lifetime, they needn’t add more to it. Now is the time for action. Argo whispers a short question of consent before leaning in, slowly, the tension between the two of them rising. 

Their lips connect, and Fitzroy swears that fireworks must have been set off next to them, because his body fills with heat. Argo moves his hands from Fitzroy’s face to his waist, dragging him in closer until the barbarian melts into him. For a second, they both feel as though the weight of the world has gone away. The only thing that matters anymore is each other. 

And then the Firbolg’s long arms engulf them both in a huge hug. He squeezes them tight, and Argo and Fitzroy’s noses crash together. They pull apart, shoving at the Firbolg so they can be freed from their prison. Fitzroy mutters something along the lines of, “Someone tell me why I’ve allowed these two idiots to associate with me”, although there is no malice in his tone. 

“I am glad you are alright, Fitzroy. That was… very scary. I was nervous.”

“Thank you, Master Firbolg. That, that means a lot to me.” Fitzroy says. And it’s true. 

“Although, for future reference, Firby, if me and Fitz are kissing, please refrain from interrupting us again.” Argo and Fitzroy have managed to wriggle loose from the Firbolg’s embrace, and Argo ruffles up his lover’s hair, much to his dismay. “I’ve got big plans for this one.”

“As long as it isn’t another truth curse.” Fitzroy responds. He can’t hold back the frankly ridiculous cackle that has been building inside him since the Firbolg interrupted his tender moment with Argo.

And in the distance, Althea Song watches over the laughing trio. Content. Fitzroy has broken the curse, and the tension between two of the Thundermen has finally resolved. That makes for a pretty good day in her book. Now if only she could figure out what was really going on at Wiggenstaff’s...


End file.
